


Hush Hush Baby

by AlrightDarlin (WhoopsOK)



Series: The Foxhole Kits [7]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Junkie the Fox, Maternal Abby Winfield, Mother-Son Relationship, Neil's teammate quickly sees the error of his ways, Plushies, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Professional Exy (All For The Game), or one particular prank gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/AlrightDarlin
Summary: Objectively, Neil realizes Junkie is just a toy; he can’t get crazy about not being able to find him.(Neil’s teammate thinks it would be funny to hide his toy fox. It’s not funny, it’s not funny at all.)
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Neil Josten & Abby Winfield
Series: The Foxhole Kits [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1288151
Comments: 22
Kudos: 126





	Hush Hush Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This week has been rough. Some softness for all of us, kits.
> 
> Title from “Hush Hush Baby” by Lxandra

In the spirit of fairness, Travis honestly just thinks it’s some kind of publicity stunt.

The Foxhole Court was _everything_ to Neil. Even with his particular brand of reluctant and vague conversation, everyone could tell. Neil calls his old coach almost weekly like clockwork and is constantly bombarded with texts from what can only be old teammates. The guy doesn’t seem to make friends anywhere else. Hell, some of the underclassmen still call him for advice. Neil has school jerseys, he’s got their game schedule in his locker, he has a fucking _fox tattoo_ —to _match_ the tattoos the tabloids have caught sight of on his other teammates. It’s a theme, you know? It’s _cute_. The stuffed fox that he could be spotted with on occasion when they’re traveling just seems like another piece of it, a call back to how much David Wymack and PSU mean to him. The dude is loyal to his school enough to go along with its _advertisement_.

So, Travis—the team social media expert—thinks of himself as playing into it. _Good publicity is half the battle to a good reputation_ , he thinks as he takes the fox and shoves it into his own carry-on while Neil is getting his suitcase from under the bus. They’ll make it a quirky social media gag; get an Instagram post up with the caption “ _Help Josten #FindDiesel_ ” or whatever the hell their mascot’s name was. It’ll be fun and people will think it’s _cute._ It’ll take some of the teeth out of Neil’s image, what, with his face all covered in scars and his tendency to mouth off to reporters. Travis is doing him a favor.

As soon as they get back to the hotel, though, Travis notices Neil getting tense in a way that strikes him as a little odd. _Disproportionate._ It’s only after Neil has come and gone out of his room four times, increasingly agitated each time, that Travis realizes he may have made a slight miscalculation.

When he hears Leena— _Neil’s favorite teammate, by far—_ ask Neil if he’s okay and Neil doesn’t even answer her, doesn’t even seem to hear her, he thinks, _oh fuck._

Oh _fuck_ , because he’s not a shitheel, he really isn’t; he didn’t want to _genuinely_ upset Neil. It was just meant to be a joke. If he’d known the damn fox was legitimately some sort of comfort item, he never would’ve touched it.

_Oh **fuck**_ , because, yeah, half of Neil’s reputation is on his face, but Travis and the guys have _seen_ his other scars, the horrific, _old_ ones across his body. They’ve read the news articles and, even as sanitized as they were, they know he’s no fucking joke when it comes to violence. He grew up being tortured by _The Butcher of Baltimore_ himself and somehow managed to come out alive and kicking.

Travis grew up in wonder bread suburbia and has gotten into exactly one fight in his whole life. He was nine. He lost.

Neil is a foot shorter than him and Travis still feels dread crawling across his skin, sweat trickling down his back, because— ** _oh, F U C K_** _._

It wasn’t a stunt. It wasn’t a stunt at all, he actually just stole Neil Josten’s favorite toy.

*

Objectively, Neil realizes Junkie is just a toy; he can’t get crazy about not being able to find him. _It._ …Him.

Still, Neil has unpacked all of his things and nearly torn the hotel room apart twice on the verge of an actual panic attack. His roommate, John, has watched this process mostly silently, after Neil’s sharp “ _No,_ ” when asked if he lost something, because he _didn’t_ lose him. Junkie is always in the same place in his bag when they travel, _always._ There isn’t any reason for him to be somewhere else, Neil never even takes him out at the airport for _this exact reason_. It’s nearly impossible he could’ve fallen out, but it’s Neil’s third time retracing his steps in the hallway anyway when Leena stops him, asking him what’s wrong. Leena reminds him so much of Dan—if Dan were a hair less patient and prone to meaner humor—that the answer catches in his throat. Part of him hysterically wants to tell her, ask if she’s seen Junkie, but shame is burning in his chest. He’s far too obviously upset to let the reason be attributed to a _toy._ That’s a level of vulnerability not meant for her. He has to get away from her, actually, _right now, he can’t do this with her_.

The stairwell is blessedly empty as he makes his way as high up as he can. The roof door is going to be locked, probably alarmed, but he can’t be in his room right now. He sits on the top step and breathes through his fingers as he pulls out his phone onehanded.

Wymack would be in practice at this time of day, probably, and Andrew is on his own flight for the next hour, but Neil can’t do this alone. Honestly, he doesn’t even know who he’s about to reach out to until he opens up his address book at sees Abby’s name first and is mashing dial before his vision starts greying out.

Abby answers with a cheerful, “ _Hi Neil! How’s Seattle treating you?_ ”

“Abby…” Neil gets out and he practically hears the smile drop off her face.

“ _What’s wrong?_ ”

“It’s stupid,” he chokes out, because it _is_ , but it sure doesn’t feel like it.

“ _Sweetie, if it’s making you that upset, it’s not stupid. What happened?_ ”

Neil feels the words rising with tears and cold dread in his throat. “I can’t find Junkie.”

“ _Oh no_!” Abby exclaims, to her credit, sounding genuinely sad. “ _Are you sure you didn’t just leave him at home?_ ”

“No, I had him this morning, I swear, I checked before I even got on the plane.” Neil drags in an unsteady breath. “I haven’t unpacked and he’s always in the same spot. I take him _everywhere_ we play. He reminds me of you guys and I don’t feel so alone when—” The emotion behind that confession catches up to him right as it’s coming out and, all of a sudden, he’s actually fucking crying. He shoves his fingers in his mouth trying to stay quiet. “ _Mama…_ ”

“ _Oh, I know, baby, I know. I’m so sorry,_ ” Abby coos gently. “ _It’ll be ok. I’m sure you’ll find him, but if you don’t Mama will get you another friend in the meanwhile._ ” She’s being sweet, so even as his heart is caving in at the thought of losing Junkie, he tries to focus on her voice. “ _We’ll even make a day of it. We can go get you a new toy and have lunch together, too, ok? Can you take a deep breath for me_?” she asks, and Neil does. “ _There’s my big boy, take another with me._ ”

It takes him longer than he would care to admit to get ahold of himself. He’s going to be late to warmups if he isn’t careful.

“Mama, I haveta go,” he says, sniffling and scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. He’s given himself a headache.

“ _Ok, Neil_ …” Abby says like she doesn’t want to let him off the phone. “ _I’m going to be watching! Call me later if you need to, I’ll be here._ ”

Neil nods even though she can’t see him. “I love you,” he says, because he always does these days, at least to her. It’s truer and truer every time he says it.

“ _I love you, too, sweet boy. Go beat the Sonics._ ”

That goal is the only thing Neil allows himself to focus on. He feels a bit like a robot getting back down stairs to get ready, but he manages it. It’s taking everything in him to keep himself from going to pieces, his mind cycling between ‘ _Junkie is missing’_ and ‘ _it’s just a toy, stop it, you child._ ’ He knows he’ll be okay once he gets to the court. His instincts take over when he’s got a racket in his hands, he’ll be able to focus because nothing else will matter.

Walid does a double take when they’re pulling on their gear, stopping cold even as Neil pretends not to notice. “Neil, have you been _crying?_ ” he asks, voice respectfully low, but too horrified not to draw the attention of their nearby teammates.

“Dude, _what happened_?” John asks, voice sharp with concern.

Neil slams his locker and doesn’t answer. Nobody asks again.

At warmups, he’s a little— _a lot_ —rougher than usual, doesn’t say a thing the whole time. He can feel it weirding the team out, is willing to let himself recognize some of their concern, but he can’t _deal with it right now_. On the court, when the game finally starts, he has to shut himself down completely to get in the right mindset. He almost doesn’t realize they’ve even won until he hears the team screaming over the buzzer. They think better of jumping on him this particular night, but they play it off well for the sake of their audience, so Neil does his best to do the same. He plasters on a smile for the cameras, hopes it doesn’t look as brittle as he feels.

It must miss the mark, though, because his phone is buzzing before he even gets it out of the locker. He sees Allison and Wymack texting him, but given that one starts with “ _hey baby boy what—_ ” and the other “ _hey kiddo, Abby—_ ” he doesn’t feel like he can look at them in public.

Running the press gauntlet grates on his nerves in a way it normally doesn’t, but they never expect strictly nice behavior from him anyway. He smiles and holds up the persona of the slightly prickly, but entertaining upstart fighting his way to Court. His performance stays solid and he easily ignores the queasy feeling that had been plaguing him all day. All the way back to the locker room, even as he gets on the bus back to the hotel, watching silently as his teammates cheer and shout.

Actually getting back to the room is something of an ordeal though because he _knows_ Junkie isn’t there and he still wants to look again. The door has barely closed behind him when his phone rings in his hand and his throat gets tight when Andrew’s picture pops up. He closes himself in the bathroom before John can come in and catch him mid-breakdown.

Neil sets his phone on the counter and pulls the stool out from under the vanity. “I guess my poker face could use some work?” he says lightly as soon as the call connects.

Andrew doesn’t look impressed. “What happened?”

The words stick in his throat, the idea of saying them out loud breaking through the numb calm he’d built up after his call with Abby. He pulls his leg up to his chest, bouncing the other on the floor and making the stool jiggle under him. [I can’t find Junkie.]

[Who did it?] Andrew asks, startling Neil back to reality.

Of all things, he isn’t sure why that didn’t come to his mind first. He runs down the list of his teammates in his head, but everyone seemed to be too genuinely baffled or concerned to have been involved. To be fair, though, he was a little preoccupied. At the very least, it wasn’t Leena… John is trying too hard to actually be his friend to do something like that. Most of the others already _consider_ him a friend, and the ones that don’t are too skittish to have gone through his bag.

[I don’t know,] he answers eventually, but it makes more sense for Junkie to have been stolen than for Neil to have _lost_ him. [I may need to start checking their stuff.]

Andrew snorts. [Don’t get caught,] he replies reasonably, ignoring the offended meowing of a cat nudged away with a foot. [Do you want me to send Kitty for now?]

Neil laughs a little, imagining how much it’d cost to overnight a plush cat across the country, but knowing for a fact Andrew would do it. He shakes his head, feeling a bubbly bit of love over his distress. [No. If someone has him, I’ll find out,] he says and doesn’t mean for it to sound like a threat, but also doesn’t care if it does. [And Mama told me we—]

The sound of arguing from out in the hall derails his train of thought.

Even after adjusting to the professional world, Neil still has a Fox level sensitivity for recognizing when a fight is about to escalate to actual violence. It’s not something he’s had to worry about lately. This team is _far_ less volatile than freshman foxes, but that’s probably why this stands out. This team argues, but never quite as intensely as what he’s hearing _through the wall_ of a luxury hotel. Whoever John is talking to has truly set him off and Neil’s wondering if he’s going to have to try to break them up. He’s gone still, listening for the telltale sound of a body hitting plaster before he decides if he needs to intervene, but instead the lock on the door beeps.

John’s lowered his voice from a near-shout, but not by much. “ _Fuck you, keep your fucking mouth shut!_ ” comes through loud and clear before the hotel room door slams. It’s not very informative, but Neil hardly has time to question it before there’s a knock on the bathroom door. “Neil, you good, man?”

Neil narrows his eyes, glances at Andrew on his phone. “I’m fine,” he says casually, because he’s never promised _this_ team anything about that.

“Okay, cool, great. Look, man, Travis is a _piece of shit_ coward. I think you were looking for this?”

Before he can remember to keep his cool, Neil is practically flying to his feet. Disbelief keeps his expression flat, but as soon as he opens the door and sees what John has, he feels his whole face light up. Junkie is unharmed, though now wearing a tiny team jersey like the kind made for purse dogs. Neil takes him back, feeling weak with relief, looking up at John in bald confusion.

“He was trying to sneak it back to you,” John continues, looking right at Neil, completely unashamed and obviously angry. “If he says shit about it, I’ll look away while you push him down the stairs.” Before Neil can even start to respond, John is already heading back into their room. Neil stands there dumbfounded for a moment until he hears Andrew’s voice call his name. He closes the bathroom door and steps back into frame. 

For once, Andrew doesn’t look teasing. He flicks his eyebrows up, [Better?]

Neil nods, glad he doesn’t have to speak. He answers sloppily with one hand, refusing to turn Junkie loose. [I think the shirt is an apology,] he says which makes him a little sick for reasons he can’t quite explain. It’s some weird mix of anger and relief that’s making him shaky. He pries it off, but doesn’t throw it away. [Travis took him.]

Andrew narrows his eyes and Neil can already feel the ice that’s going to be in Travis’ next encounter with Andrew. [I’m buying you a lock for that carry-on, too.]

[Thank you,] Neil says, meaning to laugh but just sounding grateful. [Let me see Fatty?] he adds, because there’s nothing better to end the night with than watching Andrew pretend not to be horribly enamored with his fussy, fat cat.

They chat for a few moments (and Neil is presented one view of Sir Fat Cat in all his glory), but honestly, Neil is almost too tired to focus on Andrew’s face. When he finally goes to bed, John doesn’t look away from the TV even as Neil gets in bed and sets Junkie right in view on the nightstand.

“I won’t say anything one way or another,” John starts and Neil is internally daring him to pick a fight. “But you don’t have to leave it on the table like that. I’m sure your—” He stops, cuts a glance at Neil as he rephrases, “I mean, _I_ like knowing my girl uses the stuff I get her.”

Neil is flat out staring now, watching as John gets increasingly uncomfortable.

For all that Neil would say he doesn’t particularly trust him, he knows John is, at the very least, a decent guy. Especially after tonight. He’s not lying and, anyway, Neil is too tired to care what he thinks. Snagging Junkie to hold him close, Neil settles down into bed with little more than a nod. John seems to relax at that, turns the volume on the TV back up.

Neil also takes a picture for Abby. > _T_ _hey gave him back._

Abby’s reply comes back like she’d been waiting with her phone in her hand. >Someone _TOOK him from you?? Who??_

It makes him smile. He can imagine her stomping right down to the coach’s office to give Travis a stern talking to if they were actually kids. Being in his twenties, he finds it hilariously endearing that he still has to talk her down from doing exactly that.

Promising to go out with her to get froyo when he comes home is the only thing that keeps her calm.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…I hope you get to hug something soft soon!
> 
> Neil >My teammate took Junkie. I got him back.  
> Allison >Travis #69 from The Woodlands, yeah, I got him.  
> Neil >??? what do you mean you got him?  
> Allison >nothing bb ♥


End file.
